Survival (Sorrowfeld Academy Book 1)

by Bob Dattolo

  “Large hands? I know, right? It’s hard, sometimes.”

  She laughed again and patted my back. “Always with the humor. Come, I made your favorite sandwich.”

  Ooh, that sounds good. “Okay, let me wash my hands first?”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” She shuffled off, letting me head from my little sleep area to our shared bathroom. I have to be extra cautious to not bang into anything and get hurt, because this bathroom was so not part of the space originally. It’s jury rigged, at least that’s what she says. I can’t quite tell, not being able to see it and all. I can feel it, though. And I’d agree with her about that.

  As always, I had to wait for the water to run even slightly warmer than tepid. I did, though, going light on the soap since I know we’re low. That means extra effort to clean my hands that included me hitting them with a cleaning toothbrush. I can’t tell if my hands are really that dirty, but they feel like they are.

  With that thought, something inside twisted, and I swear I got a visual of what I’m doing. A sink I’ve never seen before. Hands I haven’t seen in four years. The right one has dirt across the back. It was here and gone before I knew it, leaving me with a confused memory of an impossible snapshot.

  Oookay. Was that real? How you can see through inch-thick metal plates rammed into your skull and the knives in my eye sockets is beyond me. Not that it was truly seeing. It was closer to a wire-mesh sort of visual, except there were details there.

  None of that makes sense to me.

  Still, though, I hit my hand again and again, then finished up and made my way to the tiny kitchen.

  She nodded, I can feel that she did, as soon as I entered, “Good job on your hands.”

  “Thank you.”

  She let me pull out a chair at the table without trying to help me. We’ve talked about that in the past. I only want help if I’m desperate. Other than that, I’d rather figure it out for myself.

  The sandwich smells amazing when she puts it down. “Thank you for this.”

  She pats my hand, and I can hear her sliding my glass of water into its customary place. “You’re welcome, Maddie. You’re very welcome. After all, it’s not every day someone graduates high school. This is the least I can do.”

  That brings a smile to my face. I finished my last test about two hours ago, and the system already graded it. I passed. Graduated at 13. Now, if only I weren’t a stricken, I might be able to accomplish something. Go to college early. Something like that.

  “You already do way more for me than I can ever repay. You’re the one that taught me everything.”

  She snorted and sat with her own sandwich, “Please. You came to me smart as a whip. I just helped you blossom.” Her voice dipped. “It’s been a long struggle, but I’m so proud of you.”

  A decently unfamiliar blush rushed through my cheeks. “Thank you? I don’t know why, though.”

  “You don’t? Then you’re deluding yourself. You’re smart. Talented. Good with your hands. You can’t see it, but you’re beautiful.” My shoulders tightened, and I knew she saw it. She doesn’t miss anything. “Yes, even with the mortmagi in place. You’re beautiful.” She paused, “I know I sounded confident when I first took you in, but I wasn’t. I know I’ve told you that before, but I wasn’t confident at all that you would survive. The broken bones in your face were bad enough. Then your ribs, shoulder, and arm? I’m not entirely sure how you healed from those. Especially not being able to afford to bring you to a hospital for x-rays and to have them set. I couldn’t set them myself, unlike your arm and jaw, yet they healed. The cuts in other places? All healed. Not even a scar to show that they were there.” She sighed, “You continue to shock me. From wanting to die to fighting to survive. Then you fell into learning. Anything and everything. You never let not being able to see push you down…”

  Something flashed in my head again, and I got a visual of a tiny, scarred table. A chipped plate. A sandwich being held in the same hands that I saw in the sink. Clean hands, at that.

  Then it was gone. It was there for maybe a tenth of a second, if even that long, and now it’s gone. Again.

  Did that really happen?

  Jean had continued talking, yet I missed a bunch of it. “…graduated. So proud of you. I know you can’t get into college. They won’t give scholarships to a stricken. You can’t hide that even by changing your name.” Another sigh. “I can get more books to help with any subject you’re interested in. Just let me know what you’d like.”

  Dammit, did that really happen? Did I see my plate somehow?

  “Thank you. For everything. I owe it all to you. I would have just stayed there and died. I wanted to do that so badly. Yet you gave me an option that I didn’t think I had. Plus, you made me an amazing sandwich!”

  She laughed with me.

  The sound of shattering wood and the door smashing open stopped us, and I found myself standing, staring at blackness. Jean’s light gasp didn’t make me feel good as I felt someone enter the kitchen through the only door to the tiny place.

  A deep voice filled the small space, “Ahh…Jean, Jean, Jean. You’ve been ignoring the letters.”

  Her chair slid back, telling me she stood up, “Who are you and what are you doing here!”

  Something oozed into the room, sending pinpricks of strange heat around me. Magic?

  “Who I am doesn’t matter. In the slightest. What matters is that you’ve been ignoring the letters to you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She sounds scared. And…I swear she’s lying. Something she told me she tries never to do.

  The guy made a sniffing sound, “Hmm, lying to me? I don’t like that.” The pinpricks of something in the room got worse.

  Dammit, is he a dragon? I’ve heard that they can smell things like lies. So can mages if they have the right spells running.

  “I’m not…I’m not…I…”

  Laughter as her words came to an end with a high-pitched squeak that made me take a step closer to the mystery guy.

  “Uh-uh, do not get involved, stricken trash. I’ll get to you in a minute. I’m dealing with Jean here.”

  “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  He sniffed again, “Do you really not know why I’m here?”

  “No. I don’t have a clue why you’re here or why you would be here.”

  More sniffing. “Interesting. Seems she’s been hiding things from you. You see, I was asked to step in for a friend. He wants to sell this building, but Jean here has been ignoring his requests to move out.”

  “I have a ten-year lease!”

  “Jean? You had a ten-year lease. He offered to pay for your move, but you refused.”

  “I can’t afford another space!”

  “That’s not his problem!”

  “I have a lease!”

  “As I said, not any longer.”

  “I don’t understand, are we being kicked out?”

  Laughter from the guy. That’s…that’s not good. That’s not good at all.

  “That’s where things get more interesting. You see, Jean does have a lease. My friend would be breaking the law to kick her out. Even if he sold the building, the lease would still stand.”

  “I…I don’t understand, then.”

  “It’s simple. She won’t break the lease even when asked nicely. Kindly. With offers to help her move. Therefore, that leaves us only one other option for her to leave.”

  “Please, no! I’ll pack. We’ll pack. We’ll be gone today!”

  More laughter. “That’s the problem, Jean. It’s too late. I’ve been called in. It’s too late for you to pack up and move. There’s one option left, and that’s why I’m here.”

  “Please, we’ll be gone in an hour! 30 minutes!”

  “I don’t understand! What’s happening?!?”

  The pinpricks got worse. “You really shoulda paid attention to the letters. It didn’t need to end like this. Not that I’m not happy that
it is.”

  “Wait, what’s happening?!? What are you gonna do?”

  Another laugh, “Me? I’m not doing anything. Jean here, though? She’s having a heart attack and doesn’t even know it.”

  What? She’s as strong as a mule! How could she…

  Her gasp had me spinning towards her. “What’s happening?!?”

  She gurgled something that I couldn’t make out.

  “What are you doing?!?”

  Laughter from him at my question.

  Something hit the floor, and a soft, fading voice reached me. “…sorry…love you…like a daughter…”

  Then nothing.

  The thing I’ve been experiencing hit me again, and I got a clear vision of things. A tiny, cramped, and dated kitchen. A tinier table. The same one I caught earlier. A chair tipped over. And a crumpled woman on the floor holding her chest with one hand and reaching for me with the other. She has a mixed look of pain and remorse on her face that fills me with sadness and rage.

  Is that Jean? Is that what she looks like? I never knew she had such dark skin. Or that she had such a nice face. I could feel her face to get an idea of what she looked like, but it wasn’t this.

  She’s not breathing.

  Then the vision was knocked free as the pinpricks of something in the room turned on me and lifted me, shoving me into the wall behind me. The guy’s voice got closer, “Shame about Jean. She shoulda moved out. Now she’s moving out anyway. Permanently.”

  “You kicked in the door!” It hurts to talk through the pressure against me.

  More laughter. “Girl? I tried to save her. That’s what the cops will hear. I’ll be a hero.”

  “I’ll tell them the truth!”

  He tsked me, “You don’t take hints well, do you? You won’t be speaking to the cops. You’re a stricken. You’re trash. It just so happens I have a place for trash with pussy and an empty ass. I hope you like fucking, because that’s gonna be your life once I get you home.”

  “No, I won’t…” his magic compressed me, then bashed me against the side wall hard enough for me to see phantom stars.

  “You will, girl. You better work on getting wet, cause I don’t even own lube.”

  I couldn’t even scream as his magic squeezed more, making it impossible to breathe. He used the magic to carry me outside, where I was locked in yet another trunk, magic still in place. I don’t have a clue where he drove, but I tried to pay attention to turns and stops and seconds. After maybe 20 minutes, none of that mattered any longer. If someone freed me and offered me billions of dollars, magic, and Jean being brought back to life if I could get back there…I couldn’t have done it. I know my ability to smell is stronger than I think it should be, but that wouldn’t have helped at all.

  We stopped eventually, and he carried me out with magic. Again. Then we were inside. I can’t tell where, though. A building? An apartment? A house? His walk continued for longer than I would have expected, then his magic threw me down, hitting me up against a wall as he laughed.

  “There you go, stricken.”

  He didn’t stop me from scrambling to my feet, back against a wall. “My first name is Maddie!”

  Yet one more laugh. “Maddie, huh? You look like a stricken to me.”

  “That’s my last name…” It hurt to say that, but I did. I’m legally required to have that as my last name. Even though Jean wanted to give me hers, that’s what the law demands. We can never forget that we used to be someone.

  “You’re too funny. Maddie Stricken. Nice to mee you. My name’s Reggie. I’ll let you know if I want you to call me something else. Maybe Master. We’ll see about that. I’m an earth dragon. You’re a stricken. You’re nothing. Except you’re mine.”

  Fear swamped me at his words.

  “I like that smell from you. How old’re you?”

  “Uhh…13?” I want to jump at him and attack, but he sounds big…and he’s a dragon. That means he’s stronger than a human to begin with. Toss in being able to shift and having magic, and me being in a car speeding at him might mean that he could still win.

  “13. Nice. You a virgin?”

  “Yeah?” I so don’t want to answer that.

  “You ever sucked a dick before?”

  Oh God… “N…No?”

  “You’re gonna. You have one chance. Get your clothes off. Now. If you don’t, then I’ll bring out the pain, and this relationship’s gonna change. You’re here. You’re mine. I share with my friends, too. This don’t have to be bad for you. You play along, you get perks. You don’t…and you’re still mine. You get me?”

  I so don’t want to nod. But I do.

  “Then…clothes?”

  I swear, I can hear him smile as I reach for my shirt. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this at all. This is…Jean should have let me die in that alley. It woulda been better for me. Quicker. Now I belong to this guy? Someone that just went into someone’s place and murdered them because they didn’t want to move?

  Except I have a pretty good idea that if I don’t do this, he’ll really make my life hell. Way worse than it could be.

  Crying starts, although he probably can’t tell. My tears go straight into my ravaged tear ducts and flood my sinuses, making me sniffle again and again as I struggle not to move my wrecked eyes against the blades. Somehow, even after four years, it’s still agony every time I do it.

  My shirt hits the floor first, followed by my shorts. I didn’t have shoes on, so I’m left in my underwear and socks.

  Socks next.

  Then my bra. Can I do this? Jean saw me naked enough, even going to the bathroom, that the overall idea isn’t horrifying to me at being seen naked. Yet…yet doing this means I’m giving myself up to him without a fight.

  Something washes over me, and the mostly absent voice reaches me a little clearer than normal, “…protect you…let me…save you pain…”

  What the hell? I don’t know what that means. Are you saying…what’re you saying? You make it sound like I can give in? Let you do something? And it’ll help?

  “…es…”

  My bra hits the floor, and I hear a hiss of pleasure from him as I hook my thumbs into my underwear.

  Please do it. Anything. Please help me!

  As soon as I said that, something happened. It’s like my brain hiccupped. I went from being there, present, to having this strange sort of barrier between me and what I had been doing and thinking. It left me scared to death, made worse when I heard my own voice say, “I’ve never done this before.” Then my underwear were slid off and dropped to the side.

  Reggie grunted, “You’re good looking. I think I’m gonna like you. You’re not gonna fight?”

  “No. I’m not going to fight. You’re dominant.”

  What the hell is happening? My body moved forward without me directing it to, and my hands touched massive forearms, then began feeling higher. Thick arm muscles. A corded neck. He has to be at least 6’5” based on how I’m reaching up. I’m only 5’2”, at least according to Jean, and this guy’s colossal in comparison. I’m not sure his upper arms aren’t as big as my thighs.

  “If I’m yours, then I want to be treated as well as I can be.” My hands started pulling his head down.

  “This is a good sta…”

  His words were smothered as I kissed him. Something I’ve never done before. Something I never pictured doing to this guy. The guy that just murdered Jean. The woman that found me in an alley and nursed me back to health. Taught me. Was my mother for four pretty wonderful years.

  The kiss wasn’t the last as I trembled in the dark behind the strange layer of glass blocking me from me. My body moved and spoke and did, all the while I screamed and tried to stop it. To do anything at all.

  Yet nothing worked. I couldn’t do anything.

  Three hours later, Reggie left me behind after giving me a tour of the space he put me in. It’s a decent size room. A nice bedroom. With its own bathroom. He even gave me access
to a kitchen so that I could feed myself and a list that I could write what I needed on. Food. Anything else. He seemed impressed by what I did. What I was willing to do. How I gave myself to him.

  How I presented the back of my neck to him and put his thick hands on it when I was done.

  That last thing was what seemed to sell him. That wasn’t a human reaction. That was something a submissive dragon would do to a more dominant dragon when they’re asking for protection. For a connection. They present themselves like that, and it’s up to the dominant dragon to accept them. If they don’t want to, they have every right to kill the dragon presenting themselves. Legally? Even legally. Once that position is taken, it’s the dominant dragon’s right to kill them if they want to. Everything the weaker dragon has is theirs if they want it.

  And I did that to him.

  Which got me this nice room, a bathroom, and a kitchen with food in it.

  My body continued to walk around, feeling everything, and getting an idea of where everything is. I could feel the layout getting locked into my memory, I just wasn’t doing it myself.

  I ended up in a shower with more shower heads than I think I’ve ever seen before. Scalding hot water trailed down me as I washed and cleaned myself. Draining him out of me. Dragons are known for their stamina and desires, and he had me every which way. I’ve heard of it all, Jean wasn’t shy about telling me things and explaining things. I just never…

  “Do you understand why I did what I did?”

  My soft voice reached me, pulling me from my disjointed thoughts.

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “I am. Do you understand why I did what I did?”

  Fuck…I’m talking to myself, but now I’m the one insi…oh holy shit.

  “Are you the voice? Are you somehow driving me?”

  “From your perspective, I am. I’m not driving you. I’m driving us. Do you understand why I did what I did?”

  “Umm… I’m not sure? Maybe?”

  “Why do you think I did that? Any of that?”

  “Umm, because he was gonna do it anyway? You’re trying to get better treatment? How are you doing any of this? Who are you?”